"Sounds Like They're Saying Words"

It is several years since I last drove the road to Aberdeen at 4.30am.  Since then, many farmers appear to have cashed in on the great wind turbine klondike.  The gazillion-candle lights they have plastered all over their farm buildings make the land mass look like spaceships have landed.  Perhaps tractors aren’t big enough for them anymore, they have to be able to be seen from space.  I find it depressing.  How must it affect the geese coming and going, or bats and moths?  You see this is why I don’t go out, there’s always something to break your heart.

Saturday was another day of mizzled haar after the sunshine of the previous few days, but the road was blissfully empty, apart from pheasants dithering.  The rapeseed is in full glowing bloom, and the haar absorbed its colour, like someone had drawn up watercolour with a paintbrush.  The yellow floated in supernatural lemony luminance, hovering above the fields.  Made all the more beautiful after those cold blue-white man-made affronts to the night sky.

I am still cranky from lack of sleep.

The dawn chorus walk, spooky with lemon-green mist, was lilting from the birds and scented from the wild garlic.  I may get up at 4am every Saturday.  (I may not.  It has put me in a weird mood).  We saw many garden birds as well as song thrush, chiffchaff, yellow hammers, goldcrest.  Then two red squirrels springing silently along the moss-covered wall to the soothing rhythm of the wood pigeon’s call.  “Sounds like they’re saying words”.  They reminded me of years ago when I thought they were saying ‘Don’t wor-ry dear one’.  For Kate Bush, they say; ‘Don’t go, don’t kill me’.

It was all too beautiful. 

I don’t know why I felt so melancholy when I got home.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=74XPObUCIG4